Page 20 of The Mountain Man's Siren

“What are you doing, starring in a commercial for women’s shampoo?” My dad scowls at me. He’s the grumpiest bastard I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.

My hair has gotten long enough to brush my shoulders. I haven’t been for a haircut since Everly was put on bed rest because I don’t like leaving her unless it’s necessary.

Mom nudges Dad, shooting him a warning glance before she turns and envelops Everly in a hug. Or she tries to. For Everly’s part, it’s more of that awkward lean that pregnant women have to do. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Everly reaches for my dad next and to my surprise, he hugs her back. I can count on one hand the number of times my dad hugged me growing up. He wasn’t physically affectionate, but I never doubted his love for a second.

Before I know what’s happening, she has ushered us into the kitchen with glasses of sweet tea and slices of pound cake.

I eat my cake and swig my tea, wishing it were something stronger.

Everly keeps the conversation flowing easily and effortlessly during their visit. She’s the perfect host and it’s obvious my parents are wrapped around her finger.

I don’t think I say anything the entire time. But I’m still glad they’re here. I’m grateful that my woman did this. I didn’t even realize how much I needed it until she’s waving goodbye to them.

She leans her head against my chest. “I really like them.”

“They seemed pretty smitten with you too.” Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if they like her better than me. It’s hard to blame them. Everyone who meets my Everly adores her.

She yawns and I carry her back to our bed. I tuck her in before slipping under the sheets to join her. Then I pull her into my arms, and she snuggles against me.

Taking her hand in mine, I press kisses to her knuckles. She’s so tiny and dainty everywhere. “Be my wife.”

She frowns, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You didn’t ask.”

I grab the ring I tucked in my pocket earlier tonight and slide it onto her finger. “You’re my forever. Now let’s make it official.”

EPILOGUE

EVERLY

“Daddy,how old is old enough to know better than this shit?” Miracle, our six-year-old daughter asks Owen.

“I don’t know, sweetie pie.” He scoops her up into his arms in the kitchen where I’m packing a picnic lunch for our family. It’s Owen’s birthday lunch and he doesn’t know it yet, but his family is waiting at the picnic site to celebrate with us. He spends time with them regularly now and our kids love their many cousins. “Can you explain where you heard it?”

“Mommy said it. I asked her how many birfdays you’d had’ed.” Her eyes are round and solemn. She’s the great questioner of the family. Always asking me and Owen about how the world works. I feel like I’ve learned more in the last years with her than I have in my whole life.

“Oh, did she?” Owen pins me with a look that tells me we’ll circle back to this conversation later.

“I cannot be held responsible for things I say in the emergency room,” I tell him as I run my fingers over the line of stitches in his arm. He was teaching the kids how to fish last week and one of the boys got their hook embedded in Owen’s arm.

Despite the pain, he was laughing and joking with them the entire time we were in the ER. I love that he was more concerned about his children than anything else. That moment could have been something really scary and traumatic for them. Instead, he turned it into a grand adventure that they happily talk about.

Miracle isn’t done yet causing problems for me. “She said you had lots of gray hair. That means you’rereallyold.”

“OK, pumpkin, it’s time to go play with your brothers for a few minutes,” I chide her while darting around the kitchen island. I pack the remaining containers into canvas totes. If Owen has caught on that this is too much food for five people, he hasn’t said a word.

As soon as she’s gone, my husband stalks toward me. He stands behind me and pulls my back against his chest. “You told our kids I was old because I have gray hair?”

“I also told them that gray is a mark of wisdom and that you’re very yummy to look at,” I say. It’s true that his blonde hair is going gray early, but I still find him incredibly sexy. Especially when I see the way he’s so good with our kids.

“You think I’m yummy?” He nibbles on my earlobe.

I lean into him, grinding my ass against his groin. We’ve been together for years, but he still gets hard for me. He still takes care of my every need in and out of the bedroom. But especially in it. “I think you’reveryyummy.”

“Let’s cancel the picnic,” he whispers in my ear. “Tell the kids it’s going to rain and sneak away for a shower together. That would be a great birthday present.”

“No way,” I smack at his shoulder. “This has been all the kids could talk about this week. You’re looking forward to it too.”

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